


Cave Bear

by Llama_Goddess



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alternate Universe - Horrorfell - Freeform, Angst, Dark, Death, F/M, Fluff, Gore, Human Consumption, Jealous Sans (Undertale), Kidnapping, Murder, Possessive Sans (Undertale), Protective Sans (Undertale), Reader is not Frisk or Chara (Undertale), Reader-Insert, Sans Undertale isn't actually in this I'm just using him in the character tag, Starvation, hahah my previous fic was way too happy, i'm fixing that., it's Horrorfell guys you know what you're getting into, just a little, just at the start though, just replace all those (Undertale)s with (Horrorfell), set underground, tw broken limbs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama_Goddess/pseuds/Llama_Goddess
Summary: The sound of breaking ice was like a beast was waking up underfoot. Great jolts, heaves... in an instant the once-clear ground beneath you splintered into a cobweb with you at the centre, creaking shudders rattling through your tiny body.And then it all gave way. You feel like you survived, but... perhaps the falldidkill you. That would explain why you plummeted into an inescapable hell. You are trapped underground and you are now the hunted; death follows you at every turn in any form it wishes to take, cold and hunger become loyal companions alongside the knowledge that each day could very well be your last.You only ‘friend’ and protector from a variety of gruesome fates is an iron jawed (not just figuratively), axe-wielding skeleton monster calling himself Copper. He’s better than nothing but he’s a harsh, callous man of few words, and he won’t tell you why he insists on spending so much time and energy helping you stay alive.It may have something to do with the fact that, on your first meeting, before you even uttered a single word to him...... he knew your name.
Relationships: Reader/being miserable, Sans (Horrorfell)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 161
Kudos: 723





	1. Icefall

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So I just want to make something clear: this is going to be a much darker fic than my previous ones. It'll have a happy ending, for sure, but if you're expecting another fluffest you're in the wrong place. However, if you're gonna hang around regardless... welcome, I really hope you enjoy!
> 
> I'll put trigger warnings at the start of each chapter and in the tags. For instance: the first chapter contains  
>  **murder and bodily harm.** Proceed with caution!

_ blood.  _

**_blood._ **

_ freshly spilled. such an alluring scent. _

_ a beating heart, too... slow. perfect, inches before death. _

_ i can’t wait. i can’t stop, i can’t let anyone get there before me. _

_ it’ll be d e l i c i o u s . _

\---

You couldn’t feel anything. 

Numbness, a soft ringing surrounding you, penetrating your mind... an unpleasant and irritating sound that only seemed to heighten as the seconds went by. You felt like a doll with its strings cut, limp, unaware. Your eyes peeled open ever-so-slightly, but a bright and  _ intense _ glare pierced painfully right through your vision and into the back of your head.

So white... 

... You were on your back, on something soft and enveloping. You could feel the gravity in your cheeks, throat, belly, pulling you down... It was the only thing anchoring you. But you couldn’t feel your arms, or legs. Did you still have fingers? The world around you was empty, incorporeal, like when you wake up and you can’t tell what direction you’re facing or where your limbs are supposed to be.

_ Am I dead? _

So white.

...

A snowflake landed on your eyelash.

...

... And then you breathed.

For a second, it was as if your body had been plunged into ice cold water. Your chest contracted in one last heave of life and an instinctive, wheezing breath of freezing air was forcefully sucked into your body through your mouth.

_... Fuck. _

It was like the breath had awoken every nerve at once. You let out a croaking cry and cringed as pain began to radiate from... well,  _ everywhere. _ Your chest was tight even as it pulled in more air, head absolutely  _ pounding... _ Jesus, it felt like you’d been hit by a bus. You squeezed your eyes shut against the glare, only peeking them open when the ache had subsided- gradually, the world started to fade in, the pain bringing shots of warmth into the nerves. You could see a spot of light above you, no bigger than your thumb, surrounded by a strange, bluish-grey cloudy surface that darkened and lightened in patches. 

... Ice. It was ice above you. Clearer, and clearer... You were looking up at a hole in a thick sheet of ice, hundreds of feet overhead.

_ A sound below your boot, like a gunshot. The ice wasn’t as solid as you thought.... It wasn’t solid at all. _

Everything was heavy, why did you feel so  _ heavy... _ you squeezed your fingers, trying to locate them on your body; you felt your nails digging into your palms but nothing else. The sensation carried down your arms like lines of ink appearing on a map and you slowly, but surely, began to get an understanding of where your body was; how you were sprawled on a patch of snow.

You tried to move onto your side, groaning, fighting against the pain in every part of you... but you just couldn’t muster the energy to shift your weight enough to roll. You fell back onto your... well, your  _ back, _ already dizzy and heaving. Instead, you just pulled your arms into your chest and tucked your hands under your chin, palms against your throat and icy fingers wrapping around to behind your ear. It was the only patch of bare skin aside from your face and it was the first warm place your body could think to put them. It  _ hurt, _ but you found yourself immediately noting that that was a good thing- pain meant they still worked. You removed them for just a moment to look...

... Not blue, or purple. And not blistered. Just the normal colour... no frostbite. You immediately tucked them back against your neck, rearranging slightly so your pinkies were more flush against your throat, eager to stave off the frostbite you’d somehow managed to avoid.

_ I’ve made a terrible mistake. _

Part of you wanted to just... stay there, laid down in the snow. But it was a very, very small part... and it didn’t take long for your body’s automatic desire to survive to kick you into moving.

You sat up, slowly, chunks of snow falling from your back and head, letting out a groan as your back and stomach ached with pain, tight from resting in the snow for however long you’d been out of it. You must’ve taken one  _ hell _ of a tumble... you were surprised you even survived a fall from  _ that _ height.

Finally up, you summoned what little of your brain was still functioning and looked around you.

...

A forest.

_ What? _ You blinked, throat dry. That couldn’t be right. Were you hallucinating? This was clearly  _ underground. _ You were in a small clearing, surrounded by conifers... tall ones, towering over you, with unusually long straight trunks that branched out pretty high up. The needle leaves on the lower branches were brown and sickly and dead, but the rest of the plants looked... perfectly healthy.

You looked up again, back at the ceiling- grey and blue ice, with a visible hole where you’d fallen. Your breath crystalised in the air, drifting upwards before dissipating... you could just about hear the wind from the storm you’d been trapped in, whistling over the hole... at least it was sheltered in here. But... there were  _ trees, _ growing in an underground ice cavern? How did they get enough sun? Did they get  _ any _ sun? ... How long had these trees been down here?

Why did it feel so... eerie?

... You decided to stop questioning the logistics of underground trees, swallowing, and instead focus on getting up and getting  _ moving. _ You needed to find a way out of this place- at least you were dressed in appropriate winter clothing... thick pants, boots, a sweater, a coat. But either way you needed to try and find some way to get back to the surface before you froze. You lifted yourself even further forward, looking down at your legs...

... That was when you noticed the stain.

You narrowed your downward-cast eyes, already feeling exhausted from just sitting up but brain firing with confusion as it pulled itself even more out of its own sleepy mess state- some of the snow just around where your leg had been resting (there was a sort of leg-shaped imprint) was a strange... almost  _ pink. _ Like you’d spilled fresh strawberries into the ice, and then let them rest for a few hours. Why would it be...

...

_ Blood. _

That was the final snap your head needed to entirely wake up. Your eyes widened, and your gaze moved from the snow around to the limb itself...

Where you saw a large, ominous mauve stain on your right jean... a tear in the fabric, a-and...

... A tear in your skin, below the knee. Glistening, raw, ugly, the length of your index finger. The surrounded skin flaked with snow and both wet and drying blood.

...

The world began to spin as the pain all over you, that your body had been determinedly ignoring, started to overwhelm you. Your arms shook, weakly, your fingers and toes were prickling, your back and stomach ached like they’d been punched all over, and now that the numbness in your legs was dissipating and the wound began to  _ sting. _ More than sting- it was like someone had poured hot acid all over the affected area.

You cried out in pain again, this time a more broken, disjointed sound; it  _ hurt, _ it hurt  _ so much,  _ your hands came up and hovered over the cut, not knowing what to do. Sh-should you grab it? Squeeze it to stop the bleeding, right? But... it didn’t look like it was bleeding anymore, it just looked  _ raw. _ You swallowed, the shaking in your hands so prominent it was starting to become a problem...

... I-ice! You perked up, just a little, now that you had something to do with yourself; ice was supposed to be good for wounds, right? You couldn’t remember why, or how, but it was better than nothing- you used your numb digits to scoop two handfuls of clean, unstained snow that you packed onto the cut. You felt a sharp burn and you cringed... but very quickly, the pain noticeably subsided. Even just attempting to shift the leg back and forth was bad enough, there was no way you could  _ stand _ on it. Think,  _ think... _ wasn’t there something about keeping bad cuts above your heart le-

... A noise.

Immediately, your heart thudded and you looked up, eyes darting around. 

_ That sounded like a footstep. _

It was still  _ eerily _ quiet all around you- you could only see the tall, dark conifers, the bleach-white snow and that dash of pinkish blood... the only sound was the heavily muffled wind raging just above the ice, so far you could barely hear it at all.

...

The same noise again. A footstep, for certain; the unmistakable crunch of snow underfoot. It made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

... You took a breath, through the shivering, and mustered up the courage to speak. If it was an animal you could scare it off by sounding loud and confident, right? Or just by making any sound at all. You opened your mouth...

“... H-hello?”

Well. So much for loud and confident. You sounded like a scared child. 

...

Another footstep. And then another. Your regret was immediate, and consuming- it was incredible how much information you could glean from something when you were consumed in an instinctive panic. It sounded heavy, and judging by the distance between the steps it was large too; what scared you the most was that whatever it was (it  _ sounded _ human... definitely bipedal, at least), your voice made it approach _ faster. _ Getting closer, getting loud; if you had hackles, they would’ve absolutely been raised. It could’ve been help, sure, but the fact that it didn’t reply to your call...

A shape emerged from the thickest point of the trees and headed in your direction.

...

A  _ monster. _

To say you  _ froze _ wasn’t the right word. It was more like... your entire body seized, everything ground to a petrified halt.

It looked like someone had taken a werewolf straight out of a children’s storybook and set it right in front of you. Open jaws on a wolf’s head, but a body that clearly had human-like arms and legs underneath the overgrown matted black fur that every now and then parted like grass in a field to reveal long-since healed scars as long as your torso. The thing was almost twice your size.

Its eyes, fixated on where you were sitting, were blank. Completely porcelain white, milky... and somehow seeming infected and dirty, despite lacking life of any kind.

You felt sweat trickle down your face as your own terrified, wide eyes couldn’t seem to tear themselves away from it, lips parting and mouth hanging open. It stopped walking, giant arms hanging loosely by its sides... giving you an excellent view of the larger-than-your-fingers claws that dragged through the snow like rakes, and the thick yellowed teeth that stank even from your distance.

The thing couldn’t have been more than ten feet away from you when it stopped, grey tongue lolling out of its mouth and spots of blackened drool escaping from its jaws to stain the snow.

A-a monster. You leant back, as if that would make any difference. 

This couldn’t be _ real.  _ This...  _ It couldn’t be real.  _ What  _ was _ that thing? It couldn’t be an animal, it couldn’t be a human in a costume. At this point you couldn’t even feel your heartbeat anymore, it was so terrified, so fast. A-a dream, you were dreaming...

....

_ But... it couldn’t be a dream... You could feel everything- the sting of the cold in your nose and chest, the raw terror encasing you. Your pounding head, your burning leg, your aching chest... You could smell the sour breath of the thing, you could see every hair in its matted fur. _

Every one of  _ your _ hairs was on end, every nerve was firing, as you stared into the jaws of a beast.

... Its cracked black nose twitched, and its ears swivelled around. Its claws flexed impatiently...

... It wasn’t moving.

It just stood there, in front of you. As if it were... waiting for something...

...

... A flicker of warmth shot through your body- realisation.

_ It’s blind. _

... But you didn’t have time to register that fact for long.

It was like an explosion, right in front of you- something came bowling out of the trees, and it was something  _ big. _ Bigger than even the wolf. It slammed into it, throwing it off its feet into the ice, there was a veritable flurry of snow thrown up into the air like a wave and the air was immediately filled with ear-splitting snarls that cut through your whole body and turned your insides; the sound of two beasts fighting over a kill. You saw only flashes of brown and red on the attacker but you didn’t stay long; panic overtook you, and you could do nothing but scream, turn and run.

.... Except you didn’t run. You made to go stand, consumed by fear, but your bad leg immediately gave out underneath you in a shock of pain, landing you in the snow again. You didn’t even let yourself cry out again, you were so afraid, you needed to get  _ away, _ oh  _ fuck _ they were going to maul you or  _ crush _ you in the midst of their fight, you didn’t have the time to stop and get yourself up again to start hopping- as the brawl went on behind you you started desperately pulling yourself forward on your arms, using your good leg to push yourself off the ground and just dragging your useless leg behind you; a terrified and chaotic excuse for a crawl. You were surprised how quickly you managed to move considering your method,  _ God _ the snow was cold- you didn’t care where you were going, so long as it was  _ away. _

You heard something behind you that sounded like a  _ crunch.  _ It made your whole body flinch, and something in your stomach rolled over... You didn’t dare turn around; a gargling, yelp-like howl was distinctly cut off by a second, much more  _ determined _ crunch. Whoever the attacker was... 

... They’d won.

There was a very short pause... and then new,  _ heavier _ footsteps started moving in your direction.

Fast.

You kept dragging yourself across the ground, pathetically, but the footsteps encroached closer and closer, getting more and more loud. Your terror began to more than just power you- it was  _ overwhelming _ you. You wanted to escape, you wanted to move _ faster, _ it was getting  _ closer _ it was going to  _ kill you... _ when the footsteps were almost literally right on top of you you stopped dragging yourself, and instead spun around, looking up while propped up on your elbows... perhaps you thought that you could somehow defend yourself better when you could see your attacks coming.

Your eyes landed on ...

... Bones. 

...

The wolf was the better one.

_ You inhaled.  _

You were looking up at... a skeleton. You felt your heart and your stomach drop as one as your brain gathered as much information it could in a single breath. A gigantic,  _ monstrous _ skeleton, looming over you, twice your height and width... had you not been about to die you would’ve thought it somewhat humorous that it was wearing clothing- a dirtied red shirt and a dark, reddish-brown hoodie with a surprisingly furry hood. Even in that split second of pure horror, of unimaginable fear, you found yourself wishing you had that hoodie right now to fight off the cold.

Its bones were already stained and littered with crack and fractures, signs of years of wear and tear. But the worst crack... you couldn’t help but stare in abject fear at the giant,  _ ugly _ hole in the right side of its skull, a gaping injury that didn’t belong on a living thing, bordered by sharp edges like someone had shattered an eggshell two inches thick and left it. The crack must’ve affected the creature’s eye sockets... one was so empty, lax, lifeless and dark... its eye sockets were already strangely deep and large, the abnormality of which was only exacerbated by the fact that the socket directly under the crack was inhabited by a thick, convulsing, glowing orb of crimson with a tiny hole of black pricked into the middle like a nightmarish mock of a functioning eyeball.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. It should’ve been, but it wasn’t. The worst part was the  _ teeth. _

The crack in its head created a thin fracture that struck right through the alive eye socket, down to the upper row of teeth... it ended in the top tooth row where a  _ golden _ tooth sat, glinting, probably a replacement for a lost one. The teeth were  _ shark-like, _ almost comically pointed, nearly as large as your pathetic little human palm. 

... But the bottom row was  _ metal. _ The entire bottom jaw, teeth included, was metal, hinging just below its temple.

The iron jaw was what terrified you the most, because as your gaze touched upon it, you could already imagine the feeling of that unstoppable iron jaw crushing through your bones like soft carrot sticks. Tearing through flesh like tissue paper. It terrified you more than the giant axe it had raised over its head, it terrified you more than that haunting burning eyeball, it terrified you more than the monster’s sadistic grin.

_... You exhaled. _

You made a sound with your exhale, you didn’t know what it was. It could’ve been a sob, a strangled scream, a plea for mercy that did come out right because of the combined cold and fear... any number of attempts at vocalisation.

...

It wasn’t moving.

The monster, the skeleton beast looming over you, axe raised and ready to kill... wasn’t moving.

For a moment, in your frozen deliriousness, you wondered if this was what people meant when they said the world moved in ‘slow motion’ when something terrible happened. Were you going to have to sit here, numb and alone and terrified, watching the axe come down like someone had put the whole world on 0.5 speed?

... But then you saw a breath escape from between his teeth, crystallised and thick, catching the light his body was silhouetting. ... It reminded you of a blast of steam escaping a mechanical engine.

... He’d frozen. He was staring at you, right at you, with that horrifying eye. You couldn’t read his expression...

...

The jaw opened. Just a crack- you almost expected it to creak, like a rusty door. But it was silent, unnervingly so.

... And he spoke. His voice was so deep it shook your chest like a clap of thunder; but somehow it sounded... soft. Afraid.  _ Just as terrified as you.  _ He said just one word, and it escaped those fearsome jaws in another whispering icy breath.

...

... It was your name.


	2. The Monster who knows your name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it's just you, the cold, and the beast. Anything could happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: This chapter contains **blood, descriptions of open wounds & broken limbs, mentions of torture**

For such a huge beast, he moved shockingly quickly.

The axe fell out of his hand- by the time the head of the weapon thudded heavily into the ground and embedded itself deep into the snow, and you’d processed the fact that  _ your name _ had just left his mouth, the monster had already dropped to his knees with one on each side of your legs, completely filling your vision. You instincts  _ begged _ you to keep a distance between your body and those jaws, and you yelped and tried to push away on your good foot... but his hands  _ locked _ around your arms.

His hands- God, his  _ hands. _ You took a split second to glance, horrified, at the mitts so big they sealed your entire upper arm; phalanges almost as thick as your wrist, hooked and sharpened at the end like bear claws. Although they didn’t terrify you quite as much as his teeth did your mind  _ helpfully _ supplied you with the plentiful amounts of gruesome things those claws could do to your tiny, so very _ human _ body.

When you looked back up to him you found yourself at perfect eye level with his teeth, inches from his face.  _ So close. _ You could see how the bottom and top jaw slotted together so neatly... you were so close you could feel breath on your face, see that the top row of natural teeth were  _ serrated.  _

_ Serrated. _

His ‘eye’ had contracted, like a real pupil- or even like a muscle... but it still glowed just as fiercely, bathing you in the bloody red light.

_ “it’s me.”  _ He said- and though you couldn’t read any part of his skeletal face, you could hear a strange, horrible, panicked  _ desperation _ in the way he spoke. It was so surreal, he didn’t seem to have any lips or tongue,  _ how did he speak!?, _ his teeth simply parted and a disembodied voice came out carrying more feeling than his entire expression. You were so used to human faces and the way they betrayed everything with twitches and curves that your mind understood implicitly... 

You tried to pull back, to move your shoulders from his grasp, but you might as well have been pulling against cage bars. You could feel the  _ power _ in his hands; if he squeezed just a little bit, your bones would crack and splinter.

“it’s  **_me.”_ ** He said again, with even more desperation, as if that had any meaning to you. “it’s me, sans,  _ please...” _

Before you’d even processed the idea that struck you... your body reacted, like cornered prey, and your good leg flew up- intending on kicking him somewhere in the body. But you misjudged just how huge he was, how far his chest was from you... you also misjudged your own panicked flexibility because you managed to go all the way up and kick him right in the bottom of the jaw. You were lucky you clipped him with the sole of the boot, because his head didn’t roll at  _ all _ with the blow, and you felt like if you’d kicked him in the metal mouth with that ferocity with your toes you would’ve immediately broken them.

The kick didn’t hurt him, it didn’t even budge him; in fact, all it seemed to do was leave you in a stupid position with your leg bent up at a painful angle, stuck braced on his gigantic shoulder.

Vulnerable.

... But...

... His expression changed.

You didn’t know what it was. But you could immediately tell something was different- something important had disappeared from his terrifying, monstrous face.

“... you...” A breath. His intense, burning eye was twitching back and forth, like it was flitting between your eyes, hopelessly searching for something... “you... don’t...”

... You don’t  _ what? _ You were shaking all over, still in a state of terror and confusion, his hands still tight around your upper arms and his jaw still open.

... His hands were warm, at least.

...

He changed again.

It was like someone had taken the wind out of his sails. Like he’d just realised something that’d shattered his world... you were only just starting to properly register the confusion of him  _ knowing your name _ but it was like, in that single moment of realisation, an entire decade of age and fatigue and irritation settled over him like a cloud. Every crevice and scar on his bony face, every line of age and wear.... Just like that, he seemed more grisled, more jaded, more... tired.

Less like a monster, more like a man.

... 

His hands released from your arms ever-so-slightly. Just... loosening the pressure, but not entirely letting go. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, you couldn’t  _ understand _ what had just happened.

... 

You heard a small intake of breath from him, like... a sniff? It almost sounded curious, but with an lifeless, uninterested overtone. As soon as he did, his ‘eye’ seemed to  _ twitch...  _ the only reason you noticed was because you were staring at him so intensely, overtaken by your instinct to freeze.

He looked down at your bad leg, at the numb wound open to the cold air. The struggle and panic had made it start to bleed again; the snow you’d packed in earlier was either gone, or stained completely red as the mauve patch on your jeans now had a large damp section in the middle where wet blood was sitting on top of fabric too caked in dry blood to absorb it.

...

And then one of those massive hands sealed over your mouth.

It was less over your mouth, the whole extremity being the size of your head, and more... just the upper part of a bone that seemed to form a palm-like object was pressed flush against your lips, the other half below your chin. But you still became racked with a new fresh wave of panic and  _ screamed _ against the bone- it was firm and rough, but warm, like a stone that’d been laying in the sun.

“shh,  _ shh!” _ He whispered, harsh and sharp, more like a hiss than a real whisper. But no, you wouldn’t shh, you  _ couldn’t  _ shh, screaming and was all you had. What else could you do? Even if your subconscious didn’t, your conscious body knew you couldn’t fight him off; the thrashing you were doing was merely instinctive, you knew you had no hope of getting him away. You bought your own hands up and started clawing at the limb on your face but it made no difference, it was  _ sealed-  _ a giant thumb bone on your neck and huge phalanges coming up to behind your ear.

When you didn’t shut up or stop struggling, he seemed to get angry- if the crease that formed between his brows wasn’t signal enough his jaws parted again and a  _ growl _ emanated from deep inside his chest. Like his voice, it shook you to the core... but unlike his voice it didn’t have that slight softer edge to it. You felt it  _ through _ your whole body, the sound seized you by the chest and told you to  _ stop fucking moving. _

And you did, just for a moment, paralysed with fear that you couldn’t fight off; and apparently a moment was all he needed. An impossibly huge arm, almost as thick as your waist, moved under you and around your back- and the other tucked quickly under your knees. Before you even had time to brace yourself or gather your thoughts you were lifted clean out of the snow and up into the air as he began to move.

... He had you in a bridal carry, the side of your face pressed into the material of his hoodie, stupidly high in the air, your captor taking massive strides longer than you were tall. Beneath the thick fabric you could feel bones,  _ ribs,  _ several centimetres wide _ \-  _ up this close you started to get a better understanding of just how gigantic he was. He was a bear, a  _ beast, _ you could fit into his ribcage it would barely take any tucking up...

... Your fear of being trapped in his  _ giant _ arms momentarily overwhelmed the screaming pain in your leg and your terror at being up so high- you responded to the lift by crying out and shoving your hands into his chest, kicking your good leg, squirming like a terrified cat; you paid no attention to the little part of your brain that warned you that falling from this height would do even  _ more _ damage to your already fucked limb. He let out another frustrated growl, and merely tightened his hold... there wasn’t much he had to do to keep you where he had you. The most you were doing was causing him a slight inconvenience, at best.

“Get off me!” You said, beating your hands on his chest and forearm and attempting to push yourself out of the iron grip, trying  _ so _ hard to disguise the terrified crack in your voice that nonetheless rang out clear as day. “L-let  _ go!” _

_ (Did you see him cringe? Or were you just searching his face too hard for some kind of emotion that could give you hope for mercy?)  _

You tried to twist your body and inadvertently kicked your bad leg- pain spasmed up from the wound and you immediately got knocked down again by a wave of dizziness that span the world more than it had already been; you could barely see the monstrous face hovering over you, let alone the world around you. You had the horrible feeling that perhaps you’d done more than just cut the leg; it felt like something was really wrong down there, the pain was so bad you felt like you were going to vomit. Something was  _ broken. _

As the entire world shifted around you it became harder and harder to figure out what was going on, harder and harder to make sense of the sensations your body was feeding to your brain- everything was having to pass through the filter of pain and confusion and it was coming through warped and foggy. You sucked in spinning breaths, desperate to be able to concentrate, the only thing you could  _ really _ feel was total terror... and the material of his hoodie that you were clutching like a lifeline. 

It was all completely exhausting you.

... Then suddenly, you heard a door slam shut.

The world around you significantly darkened- you forced your eyes open, not even having noticed that you’d closed them. You’d become so accustomed to the glare of the snow and the blue/grey light filtering in from the ice above you that the darkness felt... enveloping, consuming... and yet somehow, comforting. Like the dark was going to shield you from the elements.

By the time it took you to open your eyes and make sense of the new darker world, you felt yourself being lowered away from his gigantic chest, forcing your tightly balled fists to let go... and laid down on a dull cold, very hard floor.

You couldn’t see anything. You felt totally delirious, out of it... for a second, a giant shape loomed over you and that brilliant bright red eye hovered close enough to be clear, close enough for you to touch... but it soon moved away, back into the fuzziness, and down your body.

... Then... a very strange sensation on your leg. Pressure, evenly applied by two huge somethings, on your knee and calf... like someone with the biggest hands you’d  _ ever _ felt was holding your leg above and below the injury. 

Even as everything spun, and even the act of staring at the ceiling was a difficult task... you heard him speak, deep and soft, but coming through the static as clear as day- as if it was cutting through everything directly to your mind.

**_“deep breath.”_ **

...

What?

The two pressures squeezed, and-

_ Snap. _

...

It took you a few moments to register what’d just happened. The moment the pain hit you, you understood; all you could do was scream before you passed out.

\---

...

You woke up sore.

It was strange- you expected yourself to take a few moments to figure out where you were. You expected to have that moment of panicked awakening where you had no idea what was going on, where you thought you’d be facing a familiar ceiling or wall only to spend an instant updating your mind on what had recently transpired...

... But you didn’t. The moment you opened your eyes you knew- maybe even  _ before _ you opened your eyes. You knew you’d be staring at a wall and that you’d fallen through ice into hell; that the monster had caught you despite all your struggling and taken you somewhere dark. That was all you needed to understand, and it was already deeply implanted into your desperate, stressed mind.

Your back was aching, your head was aching, your eyes and throat were aching... pins and needles racked your cheeks and fingers, your heart was thudding inside your chest as if reminding you that it was still alive.  _ I’m already so tired of hurting.  _ Something was tickling your cheek, something was pressing on your leg... Every part of you felt exhausted and sore. 

... But... Only those two. Notably not also freezing.

... As your attention focused in on your body you realised there was something over you- at first, you thought it was a really heavy blanket or comforter some other kind of way to keep somebody warm. That would explain why you weren’t shaking. But when you sat up, slowly, and the thing that’d been tickling your cheek fell back... you realised the thing was the fur on a hood. And what you were in was a  _ gigantic _ hoodie.

_...His _ hoodie. The exact same hoodie you’d seen him wearing earlier- the one you’d internally noted that you wanted to use for warmth. You looked down at it... a dark coppery reddish-brown, the cuffs and waistband a crimson red, with a rusted gold zipper and a faux fur hood (a surprisingly pleasing overall colour scheme to you). The reason it’d felt like a blanket was because it was as thick as a duvet and covering your entire body save for the ends of your feet. Perhaps to him, it was a hoodie... but to you it may as well been an immensely heavy ankle-length dress.

_ Ankle length. _

He must’ve put it on you while you slept and zipped you into it. But...  _ why? _ Your head throbbed with reasons, explanations... even as your body flooded with relief. Even just the memory of how cold you were in that snow made your flesh break out into goosebumps- a huge, warm thing you could seal yourself into was a godsend. Part of you wanted to put your arms into the sleeves but the other hated the idea of removing any limbs from the centre, where it was so nice and protected.

... It smelt so strange. You sniffed, slowly, trying to pinpoint the smell... it smelt like a damp forest without feeling damp to the touch. Old earth... moss, wood... and the unmistakable scent of raw meat. But at the same time, a very faint and faded smokey smell? As if within that forest, someone had a fire going far, far away from you. Something else, too, a warm spice of some kind... cloves, maybe...? You closed your eyes...

... You didn’t realise you had your face pressed into the collar of the hoodie until you own breath had warmed the insanely thick fabric up enough for you to have a little discomfort. You drew back, poking your hand out of the neck of the hoodie to rub your cold nose.

The smells were... comforting. In a very very strange way.

... As soon as you were forcing yourself to be distracted from the smell within the fabric you couldn’t help but note the fact that you weren’t feeling any searing agony coming from your leg. Only that aforementioned soreness. You grabbed the end of the hoodie from underneath and lifted it to reveal the pant leg that was torn nastily, stained thickly with dry blood... it looked hard, maybe even a little crusty. You cringed and grabbed the end of the pant leg too, lifting it up over your knee...

...

Bandages.

... They were tightly woven around most of your lower leg, and looked old. Probably not sanitary to put on an open wound. But it didn’t even seem like you had an open wound at all? There was no bloodstains on the bandages. There was no pain in the leg at all... you could move it, you could flex it, you could even press it roughly with your fingers. 

Nothing.

_ You remembered him telling you to take a deep breath, you remembered feeling the snap throughout your whole body. Something inside your leg that wasn’t ever supposed to move was grating against itself, being pushed, being forced back into place. _

... You swallowed, a crease forming between your brows. Your throat felt dry and scratchy. So... that monster. He... saved you from that wolf creature, he gave you his own jacket to keep you warm, he somehow completely healed your grossly injured leg...

He knew your  _ name... _

...

... You finally looked up at the room around you.

... It was dark... but not too dark. A small horizontal slit window near the roof on the far wall provided a way for some light to seep in... too high for you to climb up to and too small for you to even fit your head through. Stained concrete walls on three sides and crudely fashioned thick cage bars with a padlocked door blocking your way out, the lock as big as your head sitting comfortably against the bolt. It was just a concrete cell, no carpet or furnishings, not even a lightbulb... 

... On the other side of the bars was a short amount of space, and then another door- bigger, heavier, made of metal. Probably locked from the other side. And on the wall beside the door...

...

... You all but felt your heart stop dead in your chest.

There was a shelf, by the door. And hooks poking out of the wall. Both were decorated and hung with an assortment of rusted objects like hammers, small saws, screwdrivers, scissors, pliers... 

_... Handcuffs, clamps, knives... _

They weren’t just old and rusty. They were stained, stained with a mixture of blood and what looked like chunks of compacted dust. And as your panicked eyes darted around the cell you realised, bile starting to rise into your throat, that the patches on the concrete all around you weren’t just the normal discolouration that might come to walls with age; it was _blood._ Giant, old splashes of blood that’d been left to sit and congeal and eventually permanently sink into the stone. Splats of something heavy impacting on the walls, speckled flecks from heavy blows, sliding lines of desperate handprints...

... By far the most amount of stains was the floor- giant swathes of black where pools had once sat. In fact, the corner you were in was one of the very few unstained areas of the whole floor.

Tears were clouding your vision, you were going to be sick,  _ that’s why he’s keeping me alive, he’s keeping me as a torture toy, I need to get out of here he’s- _

... The main door to the shed rattled, and opened.

...

It was him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drama........... the suspense............... *spooky music*


	3. Second Location

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They always say to never let your kidnapper take you to a second location, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: **mentions of blood**

He didn’t linger in the doorway, not even to look down at you across the room. As soon as it was open he stepped in, turning to pull it closed behind him again with a resounding thud, cutting off a gust of wind that speckled some snowflakes onto the concrete floor. He was carrying an open padlock in his hand that was even bigger than the one on your cage door (it seemed weathered, it was probably the one from outside); he placed it on the inside of the door and clasped the massive thing shut over it, the heavy sound of metal sliding into metal and bolting shut sending shivers of fear down your spine.

Locked in with him.

... You forgot how big he was- you really forgot just how  _ big _ he was. Broad, built like a brick wall... Fractured head very nearly scraping the concrete ceiling that must’ve been at least two and a half metres high. He could probably kill you just by kicking you with a moderate intensity; a flick of a wrist, a heavy hand, that’d be all it took...

He turned, slowly. Since he was on the side of the room furthest from the tiny tiny window, the light from his eye was the only thing illuminating that side of the cell and it lit up everything it cast over as his head moved. It was such a strange red, thick and bright and vivid- there was no hint of orange, no pink to soften the glow. The truest, bloodiest red you’d ever seen.

And it was zeroed in on you.

...

He moved up to the bars, heavily, quiet footsteps still clearly carrying a massive weight behind them. He looked through the cage with a completely blank and unreadable expression... You felt the hairs on the back of your neck start to prickle. 

He was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt, you could just about make it out in the low light. It looked nice, despite clear marks of age all over it. And slung over his back was that  _ gigantic _ axe.

...

... He was just... just standing there.  _ Watching _ you. The moments ticked by but you had no clue how much time was passing, it could’ve been hours, it could’ve been a few seconds,  _ why was he just standing there!?  _ Just his eye was making your heart pound faster and faster, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth and your jaw aching from being clenched in stress. It felt like being under a spotlight; the heat from the light was making you confused and dizzy and incapable of moving. Incapable of  _ thinking. _

... He moved, he  _ finally _ moved, giant hand coming down and slipping some kind of key into the main cage door, all while never taking that eye off you.

_ Clunk. _

... The door began to open. Immediately, all rational thinking was gone- you put your arms through the arms of the hoodie to help yourself scurry to your feet and flattened yourself against the wall, ignoring the old bloodstains, when he was behind the bars you felt safer  _ don’t come in don’t come in- _

... His approach was just slow as before, eerily calm, giant body emerging into the dim light; he didn’t bother shutting the cage door behind him. He didn’t need to. He kept coming closer... you had to slowly look further and further up, craning your neck higher as he entered your space, you couldn’t take your eyes off  _ his  _ eye...

...

He stopped just a pace in front of you. Close enough that the light from the tiny window was casting over his jaw, giving the dull metal an equally dull shine. A pause, trapped under his unblinking stare... 

...

He moved...  _ down.  _ You let out a breath and tucked your arms in closer to yourself; it was almost unnatural to see him moving toward the earth; like he was a giant tree, an ancient redwood, and if he got too close to the ground he’d crack and fall and never get back up again. It wasn’t until he shifted one massive trunk-like leg forward that you realised he was getting down onto one knee. And even  _ on _ one knee he still had another foot or so of height on you... you still had to look up.

His eye was mesmerising so close. As was that giant, cragged hole...

(... You felt like his face wouldn’t be this close to you very often. You suddenly had... the very random, very unwanted and very  _ human _ urge to brazenly reach out and touch his face. Like how sometimes you get the nagging urge to jump off of buildings or bridges, right into the waiting void.)

...

He put a huge skeletal hand on his chest, right over his sternum, and spoke.

“... copper.” 

... His voice was still as deep and dark as thunder, even when it was soft and saturated with forethought. With just one word you could tell he vocalised like someone testing out a new language; unsure and slow, taking his time to think through and place the sounds, tasting each syllable as it came out. You didn’t realise until he let out a gentle “... you?” that he was... 

... telling you his  _ name. _

... It definitely took a moment to gather yourself enough to speak.  _ I’m supposed to talk to him.  _ Your head was still pounding and your hands were still clammy and your heart was still thudding so hard against your chest you were  _ certain _ he could hear it, but... you made a shaking attempt to centre yourself. 

_ He wants to talk. That’s a good sign, i can’t let it slip. ...I’m gonna... I’m gonna  _ talk _ to him.  _

... Your lips parted, and initially only the sound of your tongue separating from the roof of your mouth combined with a little breath came out. You closed it again, squeezing your fingers into your palms so tightly you could feel your nails digging into the skin a little...

“... Y-you...” Jeez, your voice was hoarse. It sounded like you’d just come out the tail end of chain-smoking eight packs of cigarettes; he didn’t seem to care, neither his body nor expression changed in the slightest. You cleared your throat quietly and took another shot. “You know my name. E-earlier, you said it.” 

... You saw his massive iris... contract. Just a fraction; had he not been so completely still beforehand you wouldn’t have even noticed. But when you were searching him for literally  _ any  _ sign of movement even the littlest things stood out- and that eyelight  _ absolutely _ got smaller. Did it signal something? Like... the fact that he was thinking? That he was upset?

His mouth opened again. You  _ still _ expected it to creak.

“... thought... you...” Every word seemed to take exponential effort. You couldn’t stop your eyes from flitting up to his head crack for a split second before going back to his iris. “... were someone... i knew.”

... Somebody he knew?

“... But that  _ is  _ my name.” You said, confused, voice thin as the spider’s webs threaded between the cage bars near the ceiling.

“chance.” He replied. It had a heavy finality to it, along with his intensely empty unmoving expression; like he was putting a wall into the conversation.

“You... recognised me too-”

... Very faintly, you heard the sound of a door opening. It was waaay outside your little prison- it sounded old, and heavy.

‘Copper’ seemed to pick up the sound like it was a  _ gunshot; _ his skull lifted and his strange eyelight moved up to the wall, shrinking again like a visual cue that he was focusing on something else entirely.

... A pause. You felt as if he was telling you to be silent without even so much as gesturing.

_ Was... was that bad? _

...

The door quietly sounded again. Probably closing.

... He suddenly reached out, and grabbed the entirety of your lower arm in one hand; before the shock that he’d popped your personal space bubble set in you actually found yourself surprised he managed to pinpoint your arm considering the sleeves were double your arm length. He stood, still holding your arm, as soon as he was up at his full height you felt like a small child being grabbed by a stranger, and started to walk- pulling you along with him across the cell floor to the open cage gate. You felt jolted by the pull, you almost tripped over your own feet; but you managed to right yourself again by using his iron grip as leverage.

You wanted to ask what the hell he was doing, you wanted to tear your arm out of his grip... there were a  _ lot  _ of things you wanted to do that you swallowed down just before you did them because your survival instinct immediately screamed  _ don’t piss him off. _

... You had to scurry to keep up with his steps.

... He stopped in front of the main door. The locked one. He was so quiet, everything about him had gone silent- from his footsteps to his breathing, he didn’t make a single sound. He leaned toward the door, as if he was going to press the side of his skull against it...

... Instead, he waited there. 

...

_ What is he even listening for? _ His hand wasn’t  _ tight _ around your forearm, just forming a cage with the phalanges... but as you stared at it, it just... felt tighter, and tighter...

... Whatever he was listening out for, he seemed to hear it. With his free hand he unlocked the big door and pushed it open- the sudden white glare from the snow after being in a dark and gloomy room for so long made you flinch back for a moment.

He didn’t waste time; he marched forward, through the snow and out into the cold. It immediately pinched at your cheeks and nose, your ears; the difference in temperature between the interior of the room and the exterior was barely anything, outdoors just had a  _ sharpness _ to it that you were already feeling all over.

... The hoodie helped immensely, though. 

You were quiet... as was he, as he walked you through the snow, keeping his eyes ahead. You glanced over your shoulder at where he’d been keeping you... it seemed like nothing more than a dilapidated old concrete  _ shed,  _ with a completely flat roof and a rusting metal door that looked as if it was intended to barricade against a nuclear bomb.

... Your eyes drifted up to the ceiling above you as you continued to walk. The icy, grey and blue and dirty green roof, hundreds of feet overhead...

... 

... You could see the hole you fell through.

It wasn’t even very far from you- a gap in the ice, a crack in the barrier between you and the sky. The light filtering through was weak, faint... the ice was either freezing back over, or the sun was going down. Copper was moving the two of you  _ away _ from it. 

“... I need to get out of here.” You said, softly, gaze fixated on the hole.

... He didn’t stop moving.

“... Hey.” You turned to him. Or, well... you looked up, at his broad shoulders, at the axe across his back the length of you, and the very back of his head. “L-listen to me. I need to get out of here. Do you know a way out?”

...

Nothing. 

... He was  _ ignoring _ you. You didn’t know where the sudden spur of courage came from... maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the exhaustion. But you made a noise something akin to a newborn lamb’s attempt at growling, and tried to tug your arm. It really was like your arm had been sealed in stone and that you were yanking against a wall... however, it was enough for him to notice.

Copper stopped, in the snow. 

...

He turned, just a little... looking down at you over his shoulder like you were an indignant child. Expression blank. Eye swollen and unmoving.

Laser-focused on you.

....

... Under that emotionless face... that red eye that  _ pulsed _ in your vision, those teeth... you felt your eyes widen, your shoulders and head drawing in by barely an inch, like a rabbit flattening itself in terror.

All of your courage just seemed to... sap away, into the ice and stone beneath your feet. 

...

He didn’t let go of your arm.

...

You swallowed. Thickly. At...  _ at least you have his attention.  _ In your head, for just a moment, you’d pictured yourself demanding to know where the exit was with a determined undeniable voice... and instead you were frozen and gripped with fear, acting like a turtle pulling back into its shell when all he did was  _ look  _ at you.

_ What you wouldn’t give to have a shell you could disappear into right now. _

“I-I... made a hole in the ice.” You said, slowly, as if unsure that you really did make a hole. Why did your voice sound so  _ loud _ all of a sudden? Why was it so quiet here? “So it’s... it’s thin. Right?”

... No movement from him. Not even any recognition he heard you. Just that stare.

“... And... you’re tall.” You continued.  _ Astute observation there. _ “Isn’t there a mountain around here, somewhere? Can’t I just... break a hole in the ice, and climb out with a ladder?”

...

...

You felt like his stare was judging you, for a hot second. 

...

_ A twitch. _ Movement, in his eye sockets; they softened, just a little. Less harsh and perfectly round, less gaping pits that held nothing but that iris inside them- they lidded barely a fraction.

He exhaled, through his nasal cavity. The rush of steam reminded you of a wild buffalo... or a bear. A cave bear, out in the snow.

...

His free hand went to his axe, pulling it out of its holder on his back, and the one holding you pulled you in closer to his side. For a second you froze up again, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care- he turned the axe over so he was holding it right below the head.

... And then he... used the end of the axe like a giant pole, and started to draw in the snow just next to him where you could see.

... He drew two upside down ‘L’ shapes next to each other- like a... pit, a hole. And just above the pit... he drew a little stick figure. An arrow, going from the stickman into the pit. Another, going from the bottom of the pit onto the edge of the pit.

... Next to the arrow going in, he drew... a tick.

And next to the arrow coming out again he drew a cross.

_... You can go in... but you can’t go out...? _

But he didn’t stop there; over the mouth of the ‘pit’, he drew a wiggly line? You glanced up at him, confused. Was that water? Was he trying to tell you the exit was flooded?

He... seemed to pause... as if he was struggling to find a way to turn what was in his head into something he could convey with pictures.

...

An arrow, coming from the wiggly line, off to the side. The sound of the butt of the axe in snow wasn’t too dissimilar from a hiss... and on that arrow, he... started to  _ write. _

m... a... G... i... c.

(He dotted the ‘i’ last of all.)

...

_ “Magic _ is keeping us in?” You said, confused.

...

He nodded. Once, slowly.

... 

Yesterday, you wouldn’t have believed that. If somebody had told you hours ago that the reason you couldn’t leave was some kind of... _ magical barrier... _ you would’ve laughed in their face and gone to escape anyway.

... But now... after being attacked by a werewolf creature, after being rescued and healed by a giant animated skeleton, and the way he was looking at you... it was as if to say ‘why would i still be here if i could leave?’

... You believed him. It made sense.

Once he’d apparently decided that was enough time standing around in the open, he started walking again, jerking you along behind him with that inescapable hand. He kept his axe in his free hand... the massive, impossibly heavy looking thing hanging loosely in his grip as if he were holding nothing more than an empty can.

... You didn’t say anything else.

...

He dragged you up to a house, just where the trees met a clear pathway. A big one, nothing like the shack you’d been locked in before; two stories, made of a strong wood and with a smart sloping roof. If it weren’t for the boarded up windows, the ugly sharp wooden and metal stakes driven into the snowy ground all around the walls, the barbed wire hanging along the edge of the roof tiles and where windowsills would be...

... If it weren’t for all that, it would’ve almost looked... nice. Like a sweet little winter forest house.

This looked like the owners were preparing for the apocalypse. 

The door was... strangely misshapen. It was absolutely  _ huge, _ just Copper’s height... And there was no frame around it; it looked like someone had just  _ put it there, _ in the wall, if that made any sense. Like the door to where he’d kept you, this one seemed equipped to withstand a bomb, thick and metallic and without a window in sight.

_... Maybe it was smaller when he got the house. _ You thought.  _ And he had to adjust it to make up for his height. _

Suddenly, Copper pulled you closer to him with more force than you were expecting; definitely nowhere near a deliberate attempt to harm or antagonise you but powerful enough to seriously yank you and cause you to stagger over the snow. The guy didn’t seem to know his own strength. He’d positioned you so that you were right in front of him, between him and the house... You weren’t sure why, but there was something...  _ really _ scary about having him directly behind you. Your prey mind needed to have your eyes on him at all times, it needed to know where he was and what he was doing, it  _ couldn’t _ have him behind you where he could attack you without you knowing; it made a shiver travel all the way up your back.

He all but  _ pushed _ you up the stairs leading up to the front door- the only thing you could do was let out a little yelp and try your hardest to give a dirty look up at him over your shoulder. If he saw it, he didn’t respond. He kept you between him and the door as he  _ finally _ let go of your arm, slinging his axe back over his back and retrieving a small key that he used to unlock what, to you, seemed like a ridiculously large amount of locks. 

He opened the massive door a crack, pulling you back by the shoulder to open it and then immediately pushing you in, closing it heavily behind him, not wasting a second.

... You expected the interior to be a mess. Something like the shed you’d been kept in. A pigsty, cold and dirty... Peeling wallpaper, hard stone floors, bloodstains and torture devices. Shattered glass, rats, barbed wire, mould...

...

... Which was why the sight of a perfectly normal,  _ eerily  _ immaculate house just didn’t sit well with you at all.

Neat walls with a nice red wallpaper, untouched and unmarred. A red couch without a scratch or tear in sight, accompanied by two fashionably patterned mini-cushions on each end, facing a spotless square-bordered fireplace that was so clean you would’ve assumed had never actually hosted a fire if it weren’t for the still-glowing embers within its grate. Beside the sofa was a small dark wooden stool polished to within an inch of its life upon which sat a single book, placed straighter than a highway in Nevada, and a wine glass so clean you could see your reflection in it from across the room. There was an ajar doorway to a kitchen directly across the room from you; even just the glimpse you could see of the black and white checkered floor seemed  _ impeccably  _ clean.

... No one could actually  _ live _ here... right? This looked like an advertisement online. Cold, spacious unloved, unlived in.  _ Too perfect. _

Copper didn’t give you any more time to look around at the house. He took your arm again and marched across the floor- stomping snow and dirt all over the perfectly maintained,  _ markless _ carpet, consisting of an alternating black and red zigzag pattern. You weren’t sure why you were suddenly flooded with complete  _ terror _ at the idea of getting your feet on that carpet but it didn’t matter, Copper made the choice for you by dragging you along behind him, over to a set of stairs which the two of you quickly cleared. Across more immaculate carpet, to  _ another _ door, some kind of bedroom... 

... He unlocked it, pushed you in and shut it behind him.

...

Ah. You relaxed a little- this looked more like someone actually lived here. It  _ smelled _ like someone lived here too... the scent of cigarette smoke and sweat pervaded the space.

A small-ish room, packed with stuff. In the far right corner, the biggest bed you’d ever seen; it looked less like a bed and more like a  _ nest, _ a  _ giant _ mattress lazily covered by a thin sheet with several pillows and a heap of different blankets haphazardly thrown over it. A much more weary-looking couch than the one downstairs, too covered in clothes to provide any sitting space... a boarded window with a desk under it, a giant metal chest of drawers taller than you with heavy locks on some of the drawers.

Speaking of locks- the sound of them clicking made you turn, staring at what Copper was doing. He was locking the door... there were a  _ lot _ of locks. Some internal, some external deadbolts- there were four just on each side of the door. And then...

Next to the door, there was a giant plank of wood that was heavy enough to have made an impression into the carpet. He grabbed it, lifted it... and placed it against the door, slotting it into holders drilled into the walls on either side.

When Copper stepped back from the door, it looked like it was supposed to resist a fucking zombie apocalypse.

“... What’re you...” You trailed off, not even knowing what you were asking. You were nervous, suddenly- what... what was  _ he _ trying to keep out? Someone as huge and powerful as him... what scared  _ him _ so much he had to barricade his bedroom door more than his front door?

... You knew for a fact that someone else was living in this house; at least one other person. Whoever cleaned the downstairs... it wasn’t Copper, that was for certain. If the shed and room were anything to go by, this monster who’d decided to keep you alive didn’t care much for neatness or cleanliness- not  _ nearly _ to the degree of whoever had maintained that downstairs.

... Maybe you were right to feel terrified putting your feet on that carpet.

...

Copper turned from the door, without warning, approaching you. And even though you  _ knew _ in your conscious mind that if he wanted to hurt you you’d already be a chunk of unrecognisable meat by now... it was impossible to not back up a step in fear when he moved directly toward you with any kind of speed or suddenness, that eye trained on you, that jaw with its cruel sharp teeth, that ugly skull just crack  _ radiating _ darkness.

He didn’t seem to care. He stopped, just in front of you, and stuck his giant hand out.

“jacket.” He said, bluntly.

...

Oh. You felt your heart sink as your eyes darted from his outstretched phalanges to his giant eye- the jacket you were wearing? The wonderful, warm, gigantic jacket that’d kept you toasty and protected from the elements this whole time? 

“... Y-you want this back?” You asked. Just... making sure.

... He didn’t move, or respond. He just kept his hand out.

...

... Probably a yes.

You weren’t sure why it made you so upset. You didn’t have much choice but to obey; you really wanted to at least  _ try _ to stay on his good side. And it was his hoodie, after all... you fiddled with the zipper as big as your thumb for a moment before giving up, realising you could just pull it over your head like the world’s most oversized shirt... which you did, handing it over to him.

You  _ immediately _ felt the cold; it wasn’t as bad in here as it was in the cell, but it was still enough to make the hairs on your arms prickle. You were  _ sure _ you were wearing a coat when you fell... maybe he put it somewhere when he swapped it for his big hoodie. When he turned to go do something, probably put the jacket away, you quietly rubbed your arms, studying a strange-looking wooden spear propped up against the wall next to the gigantic axe he’d been wielding earlier.

... After a moment, he turned. He was holding a new jacket, offering it out to you... another one with a fur hood- mostly black, with yellow cuffs and a gold zipper. It looked well-worn and well used, probably a few years old. It was  _ much _ smaller than the brown and red one you’d had previously, way too small for Copper; but being smaller than the other jacket wasn’t much of anything. You’d seen dresses smaller than the other jacket, after all. 

... The black and yellow one... looked like it’d fit you much better. It’d still be a few sizes too big, but nothing insane. Was that... why? He was just getting you something that fit better?

... You couldn’t tell anything from his expression.

...

“... Thank you.” You said, quietly, taking it and slipping it on. You didn’t notice the little change in his face- you were appreciating how nice it felt to have the hoodie on you. It smelled faintly of bonfire smoke, it was just the right amount of oversized on you, not too heavy and nice and thick... like you were meant to wear it.

_ I’d probably actually look quite cute in this, without these bloodstained pants. _ You couldn’t help but think.  _ Oversized ‘boyfriend’ clothes are pretty fashionable. _

... Copper put his massive jacket back on again, heading over to the drawers, his back to you as he opened one up and started rifling through it. You wanted to say he looked pleased with your reaction or something, but you genuinely had no idea what he was feeling. 

...

“... Can I sit on the bed?” You asked. 

...

No reply. He just kept looking for whatever he was looking for.

... Your legs hurt, and you assumed that if he didn’t reply he couldn’t be  _ that _ bothered about it- so you shuffled over to the massive mattress that was so thick it came up to your mid thigh, and sat on the corner of it. It felt like a good mattress, surprisingly- firm, but not rock solid. Springy.

...

It felt all too quiet. You didn’t realise you’d been clenching your jaw until you let it go.

...

Copper found whatever he was looking for in the drawer. He shut it again, re-locking it... and headed over to where you were sat. He was in his socks... oh, he’d taken his shoes off. Maybe you should do that...

... When he was in front of you, he shifted his massive body... sitting on the floor heavily in front of the mattress. He was still taller than you when sat on the floor, but only by a little bit.

... He held something out to you. It looked like...

... It looked like some kind of jerky. Two strips of hand-sized jerky.

You didn’t realise how hungry you were until you saw those pieces of meat hovering in front of you; you all but snatched them from his hands, overcoming all fear of him for a split second, barely able to mumble out a ‘thanks’ before you sank your teeth into the first piece, biting down and tearing a chunk off. It was delicious, thick, smoky, chewy... you were salivating heavily despite how thirsty you were.

He had some jerky too... he kept his eye on you while you ate, not that you’d know, too absorbed in the joy of having food. You finished the first piece in no time at all.

And then, as you ate the second piece, a lot more calmly (and while making a conscious effort to savour it)... you started to... 

... Think.

...

What were you  _ doing? _

You were sitting in a tiny cold bedroom, loomed over by a _skeleton-resembling_ _beast,_ in an underground hostile snowy waste that seemed to be inhabited by twisted, horrific monsters.

... What was going  _ on? _

Now that you were indoors, warmer, out of the snow with a roof over your head and a little food in your stomach, the fog of complete terror and pain and confusion and  _ just survive just survive just survive _ was starting to clear enough for you to process things.

This was a nightmare. You’d fallen into some kind of storybook... some kind of crazy, terrifying, magical storybook. You still hadn’t properly processed the fact that Copper was a giant skeleton, that he had a  _ glowing  _ eyeball, your head was still scrabbling for some kind of scientific explanation.

... But... whether or not you could comprehend what this place was... one fact stood out.

You were stuck.

Copper said there was some kind of magical barrier over this... place. Did that mean there was no way out? No way at  _ all? _ But if not... was this _ it-  _ a barren snowy wasteland full of monsters who want to tear you into pieces? You felt a cold, creeping kind of dread start to form in your gut. How were you going to get back home, back to the surface where you belonged? What about your family, your friends, your work- a sharp pang in your chest.  _ How long before they realise you’re gone? _ How long before people search for you... how long before they give up, and your face is added to the ever-growing list of unsolved disappearances?

Would they know you were still alive, down wherever this hellhole was?

... Copper said there was no way out. You had taken it at face value, accepted he was telling the truth, but... you didn’t know him. You looked at him, for a second, and then looked away again when you ended up catching his gaze; sure, he’d saved you and had taken you indoors, he’d given you food... but you knew literally  _ nothing  _ about him other than his name. You didn’t know if he had any possible motives for lying to you. 

You... you had to assume he wasn’t giving you the full truth. ... Because if you didn’t... if this all wasn’t some awful pre-death hallucination, and you really genuinely had  _ no way _ of getting home... no way of getting out...

... Your chest was getting tighter and tighter. It suddenly became hard to swallow the food you were craving so desperately.

...

You needed to focus on staying alive.

... He watched you eat your meat. Pretty intensely, at that- but it seemed like everything this guy did was intense. Yes, yes, just focus on staying alive; and in the end it didn’t matter what motive he had for helping you. Right now, Copper was your best bet for staying alive.

You swallowed down the tears you didn’t dare shed in front of him, and finished the jerky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mc: H-he's so scary, I can't even have him walk toward me without freaking out! He's terrifying, I'd never get willingly close, I-I'd never touch him. I can't afford to put myself anywhere near him, or annoy him even in the slightest-
> 
> Copper: jerky
> 
> Mc, snatching it out of his hands: _Gimme that_


	4. Settling in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first night in a new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: none

_ “... What are you doing?”  _

_ “... eh, don’t mind me. just still can’t believe i managed to con such a beautiful woman into spending another night with me.” _

_ “Pft... gonna have to get used to your girlfriend sooner or later. Quit staring, you dork, I’m trying to sleep.” _

_ “i’ll quit starin’ when i’m confident i could draw yer pretty face with my sockets closed.” _

_ “Aw- jeez, since when were you Mr. Romantic?” _

_ “since you, sweetheart.” _

...

Maybe it was a good thing he spent so many nights studying your face. He almost forgot.

\---

It was impossible to sleep.

You opened your eyes again, unable to quieten your mind, tucking your hands under the blankets. It was so dark, so eerily silent... even if there  _ had _ been a moon or stars in the sky outside, you suspected the boarded windows would ensure none of that light would seep into the room. No... you were laying there in total, swallowing darkness.

Granted, it wasn’t as cold inside the room as it would’ve been outside. You were certain of that; you still had the ache in your bones from the ice that’d seeped in the day previous and had not yet been burnt out. You felt like you had a pretty solid understanding of what the temperature out there would be like at night... the black,  _ swallowing _ kind of cold. Instead of nipping at you like normal cold and scratching and prickling like electricity, it would be the kind that would crawl up your flesh and sink its teeth into your body with fangs so sharp and thin you wouldn’t realise your limbs were gone until it was too late.

The room was chilly, too... but you weren’t. For once. A combination of factors was keeping you insulated on Copper’s little nest-bed, laying on your side on the giant mattress with your legs pulled in to your body... (it was actually pretty comfortable if you avoided the occasional out-of-place jabbing spring.)

... You had four blankets at the moment. It seemed to be the perfect amount. You were growing to know and love them pretty well, their weight allowing you to feel just the tiniest bit safe and protected. A yellowed paisley quilt that had clearly lost most of its puff but none of its density, a grape-coloured thinner cover with fraying ends made of something resembling wool but a little silkier, a chunky knitted blanket... and your personal favourite- a big, grey comforter. You felt safer with that comforter around you than you had for a long long time.

... It was... also pretty incredible how different clothes preserved different amounts of heat. You’d been more than slightly surprised when Copper calmly demanded you remove your pants earlier; it was to replace them with new, not-torn,  _ not-bloodstained _ pants, but it didn’t stop your nervousness, nor the goosebumps that broke out over your blotched skin.

... So instead, you now had thick grey winter jogging bottoms on... either they weren’t Copper’s or they belonged to him when he was  _ much _ smaller because these were actually wearable. The pants he had on right now would come up to your shoulders if you wore them. Just like the hoodie, ‘smaller than Copper’ was still pretty big... the amount of drawstring trailing from around your middle was testament to how tight you had to tie it to get it to stay around your waist, and not just slip straight off your hips.

For all intents and purposes, you should’ve been perfectly cosy. What, with your thick dry pants, socks, warm smoke-scented hoodie and copious amounts of blanket. You had no excuse to not be able to sleep.

... Except it wasn’t the cold keeping you awake. It wasn’t the dark; it wasn’t even the gnawing hunger and thirst inside you, although that was definitely contributing.

You were facing the wall. And Copper... was lying right behind you.

... He made you sleep in the space between him and the wall. You daren’t turn around to face him, your fear was too overwhelming- you didn’t know whether he had you there to protect you or to keep you from leaving without him noticing, but either way it made you nervous.  _ As if you had anywhere to go. _ He was so close behind you you could hear every monstrously deep breath he took into his train carriage ribcage, you could smell his smoky, clove-y, woodsy scent... he barely moved an inch throughout the night so every time you shuffled even an arm or a leg you felt too loud, you felt like a nuisance, breaking the silence...

... And then there it was again; the gentle red glow that cast your own shadow onto the wall inches in front of you. You swallowed, heart picking up just a few beats... you knew what that meant- he was looking at you again. You’d caught him staring on the two occasions over the whole night you’d dared to cast a glance over your shoulder... finding yourself assaulted by that red iris.

Every time the glow appeared, no matter how gentle, he was watching.

Watching  _ you. _

You screwed your eyes shut, throat tight and dry. You probably did sleep, that night, while weaving in and out of different states of nervousness... you remembered reading somewhere that insomniacs actually sleep more than they think they do.

But if you did sleep... it couldn’t have been for long.

... You were snapped out of your not-quite-unconscious paralysis by the sound of Copper moving. Finally  _ moving. _ By that point, grey light was starting to very  _ very _ softly filter in from the gaps in the boarded window; enough for you to make out the room around you without relying on the light from the giant skeleton’s eye.

His huge body shifted in the bed, the whole mattress creaking and groaning and raising... you lifted yourself up a little and looked over your shoulder just in time to see him slowly swing his legs over the side and stand up. The entire bed rose a little after he moved.

He crossed the floor, each footstep the muted heavy thud of a giant, until he came to the cracked mirror just by the bolted and barricaded door.

... He leant in close to the mirror... his eyelight reflected surprisingly brightly in the dirtied mottled surface. He started...  _ picking _ at his metal jaw- using his giant clawed phalanges to fiddle with something where bone met iron (or whatever mysterious metal the jaw was made of). He opened his mouth, slowly, and started picking again at something  _ inside,  _ turning something so small you couldn’t make it out in the low light. .. A screw, maybe? You squinted.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been comfortable- he visibly flinched, sockets twitching and eyelight contracting an inch, making him retract his hand from his mouth.

... It was clearly giving him trouble. You hadn’t thought about his jaw in any way other than how terrifying it was; looking in the mirror, you could really see how dull and discoloured and scratched the metal was, how...  _ old _ it seemed. ... and... you hadn’t thought about how that iron mandible must’ve connected to the rest of his skull; unless it was magic, how else... but with screws?

...

... The bright red eye in the mirror shifted to look at you, the little black dot in the centre shrinking.

It was like a  _ wave _ of panic flowed over you, squeezing your chest and widening your eyes, cutting you clean out of your thoughts and reducing you to base fear. Immediately you turned back over in the bed to face the wall, pulling the blankets back onto you until they were basically covering all of you except the top half of your head, heart starting to thunder and that horrible cold feeling sliding back into your gut.

... Silence.

...

... You felt like it must be a very human thing, feeling safer and more protected under covers, acting as if a few layers of fabric would stop anything if Copper did, for some reason, decide to turn on you.

...

A clicking sound. 

Well... less of a click, and more of a quick wet _ ‘chshuk’ _ noise. You weren’t going to deny it made you flinch; your whole body was on edge, waiting for  _ any _ sign to jump into full-on fight or flight mode.

... Again, that sound. Twice, in quick succession; and then... the room lit up, just a little, with a glow that  _ wasn’t  _ red for once, that silently faded back to darkness. It was almost enough to make you turn over, but... not quite.

You blinked. ... A lighter. The sound was a lighter-  _ that’s  _ where you knew it from.

... Copper’s usual slow footsteps started up again, approaching the bed. Your hair began standing on end, and you swallowed, totally still- even though your conscious brain was piling on the reasons why he had no reason to randomly hurt you, the overpowering  _ prey _ feeling was too much to ignore.

... The bed rocked gently as Copper got in, his size and weight making the mattress curve in his direction. He didn’t seem to lie down; you could hear his breathing, and it was much higher up than normal.

...

... You shot a quick look over your shoulder before you had time to stop yourself.

He was sitting in the bed, next to you, his back on the wall and his eye on the pile of torn blankets at the end of the bed, looking very... 

... You didn’t know why your gut instinct was to say ‘tired’. You couldn’t catch any cues on his face- maybe if you  _ really _ peered, you could say that his sockets seemed flatter than usual? That his posture was more hunched over, that the limp way his hands laid at his side was different for him? 

Either way, your own eyes were drawn to the faintest yellow-orange glow coming from something sticking out from between his teeth.

...

A cigarette. It looked a little bent and disfigured, and stupidly small compared to his face, crumpled where his bone upper teeth and metal lower teeth clamped together to pin it... but it was a cigarette nonetheless. It was burning pretty quickly... each breath he drew was so deep, it dragged through the thin paper with almost too much speed.

_... Ah. That’d be where the smoke smell in the room came from. _

...

...

“Why are you helping me so much?”

You didn’t even consciously move to say it. It fell out of your mouth like a confession not intended for his ears (or lack thereof), your lips and throat moving before your mind could step in and stem the flow; even though your voice was ever-so-soft, just above a whisper and hoarse and cracked with hunger and  _ thirst, _ it seemed to cut through the pressing, endless silence like a gunshot.

... His eyelight moved down to you again, thick and bright and burning. The longer you stared at it, the darker the room around you seemed to become.

...

He exhaled smoke from between his teeth, the light from his iris catching the plumes, giving the illusion they were glowing a similar true red.

...

... He didn’t reply. For once, he was the one who broke the staring contest; eyelight shifting back to staring at the end of the bed.

... You rolled over to face him, neck starting to ache from having it bent at a strange angle. For some reason, the prospect of lying down facing him was... less scary, when he was sat up?

“... Where is this?” You were inches away from coughing.

... It was actually pretty surprising when he answered, his deep deep voice grating and... yes,  _ definitely  _ exhausted. 

“... snowdin... village.” He grunted.

...

“... Wait. Snowdin...” You blinked. “Like...  _ ‘snowed in’? _ Like... a  _ pun?” _

...

... He chuckled. It escaped with more wisps of smoke, like he was a dragon, the bone top row of teeth in his smile pulling upwards ever-so-slightly and his sockets visibly closing a little- it was the biggest change in his facial features you’d seen so far. The sound was so deep and gravelly, it took your core and  _ touched _ it, shook it, and yet somehow it was soft... somehow it had that strange, breathy quality to it that smoothed the jagged corners.

“... yeah.” He hummed, massive body relaxing into his seat just a little more. “... pun.”

...

You weren’t sure what it was, but his laugh, it...

... It was like seeing a flash of humanity. 

You felt like you’d been down here much longer than just one day. But however long it was, you hadn’t felt a shred of genuine joy, or heard another human laugh being since you went through the ice; you’d seen a staggering  _ two _ living creatures down here and one had tried to kill you. The only person who gave the vague impression that they had your best interests at heart was Copper... he was your only safety. And even so he’d spent the whole time dragging you around by the forearm and having the conversational enthusiasm of an introverted jellyfish.

... His face had been so dead of emotion. So unmoving, so lifeless, occasionally bearing a hairline fracture wide enough for you to guess what he might  _ possibly _ be thinking... it’d just made you more and more scared as the hours went on, more and more uncomfortable, more and more desperate for the usual twitches and tells that showed you there was  _ some  _ feeling in there...

... And there it was. Finally. A laugh; a smile.

...

Your heart slowed down, settling back into a regular beat, and the cold chill that was covering you slid away to let you feel some of the warmth of the blankets piled on top of you.

... You were still scared, of course. But not as much... not nearly as much.

...

You shut your eyes, ignoring the hunger pains in your stomach and the cracked sensation in your throat... and fell asleep to the smell of cigarette smoke, facing him instead of the wall.

\---

... This time, you  _ did _ have that split second confusion of wondering where you were when you woke. Perhaps it was because you were warm, on a real mattress and piled in blankets, instead of laying on a cold rock hard floor that hurt your hips. You blinked your eyes open and saw a ceiling above you, a normal ceiling... it didn’t take long to remember where you were, but the feeling of waking up and thinking you were safe... it definitely left a stinging sensation in your chest.

Another pain to add to your growing list of ailments.

... Light was filtering through the gaps in the window boards. You sat up, blankets folding over your legs, looking around the messy room... 

... No Copper. Just you.

...

The smell of cigarettes and cloves still lingered, probably deeply ingrained into every part of the mess in there. You couldn’t tell if it was that or your thirst that was starting to make your head throb. You moved the blankets completely to the side, shuffling across the expanse of bed that Copper had taken up the previous night... your legs and back ached, still sore and unhappy and healing from the massive fall. But despite that, your body still felt generally lax, and comfortable... your dry, thick clothes maintaining the important warmth you’d gathered under the covers.

...

... No Copper at all... total silence. His axe wasn’t by the door, where he’d put it last night; maybe he was out doing something? You scanned the room, taking in a lot more now that your brain wasn’t so totally fried and confused... the weary-looking couch covered in clothes was stained with ancient coffee marks, the wooden desk under the boarded window was scratched beyond belief and the sides (the left particularly) was marred by hundreds of little black spot-like cigarette burns. The giant metal chest of drawers taller than you was almost as dull as Copper’s jaw... some of the colourful socks on the floor seemed far too small for your large...  _ friend’s _ feet.

...

It was a big room. It felt lived in.

...

Why did you suddenly feel so... 

... Alone...?

...

Nevermind. 

You rubbed your eyes. You didn’t feel safe leaving this little barricaded mess, so you just elected to just... explore the room, for now, and wait for him to come back. You slid off the bed and crossed the messy floor, stepping over abandoned items of clothing and strangely coloured stains, approaching the large cabinet... the topmost level of drawers were locked shut with various misshapen or oddly-sized locks. You remembered he got the jerky from the top level- the thought suddenly reminded you of the hunger still biting in your stomach, and the thirst that was starting to become a real problem for you. The lower levels were open, and the lowest was perfectly at your chest height... so of course, you opened them up to take a peek, half hoping for some kind of drinkable liquid.

... It was just boring things. Tools, pieces of scrap wood and kindling, screws and bits of cloth, an empty matchbox... you assumed he must keep the less important items in the lower shelves where he wouldn’t have to bend down to reach them. Your chest deflated as you checked every drawer on the lower shelf, just in case... nothing interesting.

... You pursed your lips, momentarily entertaining the idea of pulling up a pile of clothes or something to get higher and get to the other shelves... but the thought of pissing off the guy keeping you safe by rifling through drawers clearly not meant for your hands convinced you to find something else to do.

... You moved, as casually as someone in your position could, around the room, inspecting clothing piles (without moving them), running your fingers over the mottled surface of the old desk, pressing the cracked fabric on the couch, familiarising yourself with the wallpaper, the room and all its cracks and warps... 

... It was almost... nice.  _ Real. _

...

As you were standing before the door, examining the locks all over it and the massive plank of wood leant up against the wall, you couldn’t help but... but start to ask yourself why Copper was looking after you.

He’d refused to answer earlier, even though he was perfectly capable of doing so. Why is that something he’d keep from you? You touched the odd old wooden spear by the barricade plank, brow furrowed, licking your dry cracked lips again. The only reasons you could muster in your head was that either he had something to hide from you, or... he didn’t  _ know _ why he was keeping you alive, and just chose to remain silent. Pleading the fifth.

... And maybe you were just... bad at reading him and his completely untelling face, but... he didn’t seem to need to help you. He didn’t even seem to  _ want _ to help you. So why? Pity?  _ Fun? _ Now that you thought back on it, on the very first moment you saw him (the image of him standing over you with his axe raised in the air made your neck hairs prickle and your hand withdraw from the spear) he seemed pretty fucking close to bringing his weapon down on you...

... Then, of course... he said your name.

...

You moved back over to the bed, sitting on the edge, your hands in your lap and your eyes on the floor. Your feet and temples hurt.

...

... There was no other way he could’ve known your name than knowing a person who looked exactly like you and happened to have your name, making him pause long enough to spare you. This person... did she save your life? Were you still breathing right now purely by chance? That would explain why he grabbed you and said ‘it’s me’ so desperately... you rubbed your forearms, feeling sick.

... Was he... keeping you alive, because he had some sentimental connection to a person who you resembled?

...

You suddenly felt... less safe. If the reason he didn’t hurt you hung entirely on the fact that you looked like someone else... he had no connection to  _ you. _ No  _ present _ reason to keep wasting food on you. What if he changed his mind? What if...

...

You took a deep breath, standing up from the bed and pacing a few steps, pushing the thoughts out of your mind. You didn’t have  _ time _ to worry about that- you knew if you fell too far into thinking about how close to death you were, you’d become despondent, you’d stop trying. You needed to just keep your head in the game and focus on keeping your heartbeat going.

Instead, you stood by the boarded window, leaning down to peer through a gap between the planks. It was hard to make out anything because the gap was so small, you put your hand on the plank to get a better look... but when you felt it shift, you realised it could lift, and you eagerly used one hand to swing it upward and peek out, flooding the room behind you with light.

The window itself was frosted in the corners, with a large crack mark running across where you were looking out of that seemed to  _ glow _ white in the way it caught the light. You had a perfect view out into the woods... your eyes widened as you took in the view, even as the back of your head complained. The powdery snow blending into the tall dusted evergreens, stretching out into a strange heavy mist that swallowed trees up to their necks like sludge, settling into odd shapes in the distance you could only assume were hills that bordered a clear barrier-like vertical rocky shelf. This place must go on for  _ forever... _ Above, there was the ice ceiling, mottled and grey and blue and possible to confuse for strange rainclouds if you didn’t focus too closely... for just a moment, you were distracted from your terrible situation, because there was something oddly  _ beautiful _ about the surroundings. It looked quiet, it looked  _ ni- _

Something hit the floor.

**_“no!”_ **

_ Fuck. _

Copper’s voice snapping the silence struck you like a  _ bulldozer- _ you spun around, making an audible cry of alarm and jumping away from the window.  _ There he was; _ his shoulders speckled with snow and his golden tooth catching the white light from the glass.

Copper was across the room almost instantly, his body filling your vision and hand  _ slamming  _ the board down again (cutting out most of the light in the room) before you could even fully get out the way, you staggered back until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you couldn’t go any further. He turned, leering down at you with the very small amount of window light silhouetting his massive form... and suddenly,  _ all  _ your fears lit up again. He looked  _ furious,  _ bone half of his mouth pulled into a snarl and his eyelight visibly smaller, a strong crease between his brows and his claws bent like he was going to slash you into ribbons.

_ He terrified you. _ A shot of pain ricocheted through your head- stress? Fear? Thirst? It could’ve been anything.

Copper sucked in a breath through his nasal cavity, like a massive engine trying to cool itself. His snarl became a little more  _ prominent  _ as he pointed to the window- probably referring to what was outside of it.

“monsters.” He growled, letting the word hang in the air...

... and he then turned his claw-finger to you, not far from jabbing you in the chest.

_ “snack.” _

...

...

Staring up at him in abject fear, all you could think to do was...

_"I-I’m sorry.”_ You said, voice like someone had squeezed all of the breath out of it and just left a cracked shell behind, parched and high and whispery, definitely coming out a lot smaller and more pathetic than you initially intended.

...

He didn’t reply. It was a response you were starting to become accustomed to. But before he turned away from you (which you much preferred to being killed or eaten), at least his snarl-mouth fell a bit at the sides, and the line between his brow bones wasn’t quite so deep.

...While Copper walked back to the door to retrieve whatever he’d dropped, your legs gave out, making you sit clumsily onto the edge of the mattress. You felt dizzy, so dizzy, you put a hand to your head- fuck, you needed something to drink,  _ anything... _ your throat and tongue were so  _ dry _ . Did he know humans needed water? How were you supposed to ask him for anything now that he was clearly upset with you? You should’ve been smarter than this,  _ obviously _ there was a reason the windows were boarded... you were so stupid...

...

... Copper’s footsteps again. You glanced up, pulse skipping when you noticed he was heading your way...

... His hand was perfectly at your eye level. He... was holding out a medium sized dented plastic jug, with a beaten up plastic screw-on lid.

“... water.” He murmured, eyelight back to its normal size.

...

...

That night, you slept facing the wall again. Despite the fact that you had another being close enough to roll over and touch, you felt so...  _ alone. _ So frightened, and so horribly alone. Copper was, for all intents and purposes, the only person on Earth who knew for  _ certain  _ you were alive- his reasoning for  _ keeping  _ you alive was a mystery he didn’t intend to share. 

... You had to rely on him. And it absolutely terrified you.

\---

... 

You were asleep. He could tell- your breathing had slowed down, evened out, like your heartbeat... and your shoulders had finally stopped gently shaking. The obvious tells of overwhelming fear that clung to you all day long temporarily settling down to rest.

... He moved, very slowly, propping himself up on one elbow... high enough to look down at your sleeping face. Careful to keep from rocking the bed, or rustling the sheets too loudly... he knew your unconsciousness was a light and fitful one, plagued by terror and distrust.

...

... Copper reached out a single phalange, and tucked some escaping wisps of hair behind your ear... with a very well practised gentle touch.

And even though it hurt, he couldn’t help it... he forced his jaw open, just a crack, speaking in the softest tone his damaged voice could manage. 

“... i... _m-missed_ you...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copper, pointing at Mc: _snack_  
>  Mc: [gasp] S-so monsters will eat me  
> Copper: what? no  
> Copper: i was sayin you a snack. cus damn baby u thick as hell


	5. A haven in the void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You allow yourself to recover a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: none, but a little bit of existential dread

Though it hurt him constantly, even when he didn’t think about it, right now, he... he was  _ glad _ it all happened. 

Without those years he never would’ve understood how to take care of you- human biology was as complex as it was fascinating. How to feed you, what to get you to drink, what to look out for...

... It hurt, but he didn’t have to lose you a second time.

\---

You surprised yourself with how much you slept, in Copper’s tiny room. It was like... you were  _ always _ tired. It started with just one ‘nap’, finally dropping off in the night and getting a few consecutive hours with your brain shut off... and as soon as your body was convinced it could genuinely rest, despite your fear of the mountain-like man behind you, a switch was flipped. You were  _ out, _ tucked like a hibernating ground squirrel into your safety blankets, completely unconscious for what  _ must’ve  _ been a full day at least; your exhausted body finally giving itself time to not only catch up on all that missed sleep but to physically recover from your fall and process all those subsequent too-many-for-one-day brushes with death. 

... In your dreams, you were on the surface. This whole terrifying ordeal never happened... you were back to silly little worries- tests and meetings and studying and whether or not you’d make it to wherever you needed to go in time. In fact, in your most recent dream, you were just trying to catch the train... you didn’t even get the train often. But this one was on its way, and you had to rush to the station... you were going to miss it...

...

You woke up. Very slowly; rising out of the ocean of sleep in a mini haze, once again awakening to an unpleasant hunger in your gut that’d only increased over time... scratching at your insides like a disgruntled cat. It was dark in the room, again- you’d missed the day and you settled for just pinpointing the red light from Copper’s eye to assure yourself he was there. Your limbs felt heavy, comfortable... your legs were tangled with one of the thinner bedsheets, a single socked foot poking out from under all the protection.

... With a bleary blink, you found yourself looking at Copper’s giant form, hunched over and near to you, his eye not facing in your direction. You were too sleepy to be scared... instead, you just stared, detachedly hoping he didn’t think all this sleep meant you were dead, or dying.

_... In case he decided to cut down on waste and eat you. _

...

The world cleared, eventually... he was on his knees, by the side of the mattress, facing the wall. Just judging from the light of his iris it looked like... he’d kicked over a pile of clothes, next to the bed, that you’d been too scared to touch. You couldn’t quite tell, but there was definitely something there... he was holding something in his big hands, too, that he bought up to his face, up to a tiny orange glow between his teeth...

... Light. 

You blinked- a  _ much _ brighter flickering light appeared in his hands, his face emerging from the shadows. It wasn’t anything drastic, but it was good, and you couldn’t help from staring at it... a few licks of flame manifesting between his cruel phalanges. He blew on it, as gently as a summer breeze... encouraging the tiny fire and lighting up what he was doing.

... He wasn’t just crouched by the wall- under the pile of clothes he’d moved had been a small and  _ old _ looking black iron stove, attached to the wall by a thick pipe. Its swinging door was open, and a few chunks of misshapen wood had been placed in- it looked like the kind of thing you’d see sitting well-loved in the corner of a house in the 1800s. Copper was holding a handful of kindling that he’d coaxed a flame out of with the end of his lit cigarette... once it seemed happy enough, crackling and smoking, he placed it into the tiny belly of the stove with the rest of the wood, slipping in a few more sticks before closing the stove door.

... You wondered if he could feel anything, in those bone hands of his, as he swung the tiny metal catch closed. Didn’t he feel those flames, licking up his hands, while the kindling was still in his palms? Didn’t the fire bite him?

... You wanted to explore those giant talon hands in the same way you found yourself oddly wanting to touch his face the previous day. You were too curious for your own good.

... 

This was nice. The flickering orange glow and gentle dulled crackling from within the stove felt so,  _ so  _ comforting. As the fire caught on to whatever else he’d placed inside the stove, it began to brighten, fill with life... your eyes were already desperate for any kind of illumination so the gentlest incandescence from the fire revealed the entire room to you; the barest orange light producing deep, sharp shadows and outlines everywhere that stretched and warped with every flick of a flame. It was like... the whole room was breathing.

...

You suddenly felt... very lonely. As if the rest of the universe was just pitch black cold and darkness, and this little room, with its little stove producing the barest of light and heat, was the only safe haven- the only thing in a horrible endless void. You knew that realistically the rest of the world was still awake... still bright, still full of noise; but those bustling cities full of cars and people and  _ safety  _ felt so far away.

So far away.

... You and Copper, holed up in your tiny fortress... 

...

Would the world even notice you were gone?

...

... Copper turned to you, apparently noticing you were awake. You raised your eyes to him just as he began slowly reaching out one of those big, big hands in an enclosed fist... you were still so sleepy that you didn’t even flinch, you didn’t feel any fear as it moved closer, close enough to touch your hair, to take your head and crush it like an orange...

...

He placed something on the mattress, just in front of your face.

... You lifted your head up a little, your neck all but grumbling in protest, trying to get a better look in the dim stove light; you probably had the most ridiculous bed hair, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

It was... more jerky. And a handful of assorted nuts, some you recognised, some you didn’t- ‘handful’ being a Copper-sized handful.

...

Your stomach audibly growled at the sight of  _ anything _ edible, a sound which Copper either didn’t hear or just chose to ignore. Your hand moved out from under the covers, without much input from your brain, muscles still relatively stiff and tired... in a good way. You took the jerky first and brought it to your mouth, making your jaw expend some minimal effort to chew it to pieces and swallow; it was still just as delicious as last time... or perhaps, when you’re this hungry,  _ any _ food tastes good.

The physical action of eating, of moving your jaw, took you away from your existential fear of the primal darkness and the cities that’d forgotten you for a precious moment.

“... Nuts?” You said, taking one and holding it up a little to see it in the dim warm light. Your voice was still hoarse but  _ significantly _ better than the previous day (well, you didn’t have much idea of how long you’d been asleep but you assumed it was a day) careful to make your voice just sound curious, not ungrateful. The nut was shaped like a very fat teardrop, a bronzed shell cracking away to reveal a softer orange inside... the holes in the surface warped and flickered with the flames inside the stove.

“... calories.” He replied. 

... Your gaze lingered on him; the monster who’d saved you. The beast who knew your name... his massive shoulders, his train carriage chest, the way the shadows inside his skull crack danced... the reflection of the light in his metal jaw and golden tooth, his jutting teeth, his hooked hands that could end your silly little worries about being forgotten by just holding on to your head and flicking with a little bit of vigour...

... His eye...

...

Was it strange to say that... right now, in the darkness, in this room... you felt so overwhelmingly  _ glad  _ he was here with you and that you weren’t alone, that you could’ve started crying?

...

... You tore your eyes from him and removed the glinting shell of the nut in your hand, popping the yellowed insides into your mouth to distract yourself. It didn’t crunch, like a normal nut, or like you’d expect; this variety seemed to be a bit softer, a bit sweeter. Your mind briefly supplied that you could be allergic to one of the assortment of nuts on the mattress in front of your face... but your hunger overtook any other thought, and you kept eating, savouring the strange bitter flavours of each one.

“... Is... food scarce, down here?” You asked, softly.

He didn’t even hesitate, eyelight not moving from the flames inside the stove. His voice permeated the whole room; right at home with the darkness. “very.”

...

He noticeably wasn’t eating anything at all.  _ And yet he still chose to feed you. _

“... Th... thank you.” You mumbled.

He didn’t even look your way. He just nodded, silently, then turned to his side and picked up his axe... he laid it across his lap and retrieved an oddly shaped stone from the pocket of his jacket, taking it and running it across the sharp edge of the blade with a low, dull scraping sound. The glow from within the stove cast even more strange shadows over his face as he concentrated on sharpening the weapon... you couldn’t help but stare as you quietly crunched on more nuts, tiredness muting any fears you might’ve had about being caught watching. 

... You eating snacks in bed, him sharpening, both of you bathed in the light of a fire...

...

It felt strangely... domestic?

The nuts all were slightly crunch-less and stale but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, it just felt nice to put something in your painfully empty gut. And even though the nuts didn’t look very big, you were surprised at how satiated you felt after just a few... so much so that when you got to your last one, you were almost satisfied. It was a little almost totally spherical nut, chestnut in colour... it tasted bitter on your tongue but you savoured it nonetheless.

... Even from your position in the bed you could feel the stove starting to warm up the room significantly; beginning to finally burn out the remaining cold that’d infected you, right down into your bones. You could feel yourself starting to slip again... your eyelids getting heavier and heavier, your body sinking into the mattress... listening to the oddly hypnotic sound of the Copper sharpening his axe, the gentle scraping, feeling the pleasant heat starting to spread around the place...

... You closed your eyes, treating yourself to a few minutes with nothing on your mind.

... That was the strange thing, about being down here, in the darkness. If you weren’t immediately worrying for your survival... you didn’t have to think about much at all.

\---

...

The next time you woke up, there was the barest trickle of grey light seeping in from between the window boards, and you found yourself feeling...  _ awake. _ Instead of staring blearily without taking anything in and immediately wanting to just shut your eyes again, heavy-limbed and hoping (with a detached sort of desperation) to disappear back into safe unconsciousness, you felt... 

... Adequately rested? 

_Not a feeling I’m used to, that’s for certain_. You thought.

Even just staring up at the ceiling, your lips slightly parted, you felt like... moving. You could all but feel the neurons finally starting to fire again, the nerves waking up and remembering how to signal; you felt restless- your body was healed, and desperate to get back to work.

... You could hear the stove still crackling, weakly... you couldn’t see its glow now that the sun was rising. You turned your head, curious to just check it...

Only, Copper’s giant body blocked your view, his chest less than an arm’s length from you, head even closer.

... You blinked. 

Copper was...  _ asleep. _

It definitely wasn’t something that should’ve surprised you as much as it did. Obviously, he had to sleep, right? He had a bed that he clearly used, and he laid still next to you at night. Everyone had to sleep.

But... you hadn't actually  _ seen  _ him asleep.

He had no iris. No deep, red light, honing in on you and dragging you in and keeping you there; just his skull. Just his bones, his jaw... his sockets were low and drooped as if he was just about to blink, the crook of his elbow providing a makeshift pillow.

...

He had a tired face. You couldn’t stop staring, taking in every detail so close... every groove in the bone, every sharp edge around the crack that struck through his socket, the hair-thin scratches on his jaw that caught the light in different ways to the rest of the metal. He was fascinating so close... every now and then it hit you that he was an animated  _ skeleton monster,  _ some kind of fantasy beast, something you never would’ve thought could exist back when you were on the surface... when he breathed he breathed so deeply and continuously that you were certain that amount of air would make your lungs burst like balloons...

... You swallowed. You felt that, even if his reasoning was shaky at best, if you had  _ him _ looking after you... this monster on your side... you had much less to fear from this new world you’d fallen into.

...

Before you could even realise what you were doing, you were reaching out with one hand, inches away from touching his face. The closer it was to him the smaller you felt.

...

You pulled away, unsure of what came over you. Instead, you shuffled around in the blankets for a moment like a helpless newborn turtle, before managing to sit yourself up... you had a pretty pressing issue on hand.

“Copper?” You asked, softly, like a child nervous to wake up their parent after a nightmare.

He made some sort of... low, lazy grunting sound in the back of his throat. Well, it couldn’t be from a  _ throat  _ obviously, but it sounded like it came from that area- his eye reappeared slowly, and like a camera lens focusing, the black pinprick in the middle started wide and shrinking in again before turning to look up at you.

...

“I... do you have a bathroom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copper: *gives Mc jerky for like, the 8th time in a row*  
> Mc: Delicious. Finally, some good fucking food

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to drop some questions, or just come say hi, [here's my tumblr!](https://llamagoddessofficial.tumblr.com/)


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